


Smart Mouth and Killer Hands

by gagewhitney



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-19
Updated: 2012-04-19
Packaged: 2017-11-03 21:56:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gagewhitney/pseuds/gagewhitney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you think she's okay?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smart Mouth and Killer Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from cemeterydreamer: Set after the finale, Glenn and Daryl have a talk about missing/mourning Andrea. Looking for deep and introspective Daryl; bonus points if he realizes he kind of had some feelings for her (or had at least taken an interest).
> 
> Title is derived from the lyrics to Kings of Leon's "True Love Way." Seemed to fit. ;)

The sun's just starting to peek over the horizon when Glenn takes a seat on the cracked, dirty pavement next to Daryl, their backs up against Merle's chopper. He folds his legs up and hugs his knees, watching as the other man carves methodically into a small tree branch.

"Hey," Glenn says quietly. When he doesn’t get a response, he continues. "You get any sleep last night?"

Daryl shrugs. "About as much as you can expect."

"Yeah. Yeah, me either," Glenn says. He glances back at the rest of the group, sleeping on the ground about ten feet away, then back to Daryl. He focuses on his hands and the almost angry way he uses the knife. "Maggie and Beth and Hershel? They're pretty upset. Crying and stuff all night."

Daryl doesn't look up at him. "Just lost their farm. Their people. What'd you expect?"

"No, nothing. I'm not…" Glenn sighs. "Nothing." After a few quiet minutes, he asks, "Do you think she's okay?"

"Andrea?" Daryl asks, glancing over at the younger man.

"I miss her," Glenn confesses. The tone of his voice is sad, mournful; his face is as grim as Daryl's ever seen it. "Feels like I've known her forever. And I mean, I know it's not that long a time. But she and Amy and Dale… they were like family, you know?"

Daryl chooses not to say anything. He's not one to share his feelings, to speak easily with others about his hopes and fears, his likes and dislikes. When Glenn looks over at him, he just nods his head companionably and goes back to scraping his knife along the piece of wood.

"Do you think she's okay?" Glenn asks again. "I mean, do you think there's even a chance?"

At this, Daryl grunts. "I think if anyone could be, it's that chick."

"Yeah," Glenn laughs. He smiles sadly. "Yeah. She's pretty tough, huh? I mean, she's gotten crazy good at taking out walkers, right?"

"Yeah."

"That day… with the barn," Glenn says, stumbling a bit at the memory of exactly what happened that day with the barn. "Did you see her just swing that thing into that geek's head? Dude, she didn't even hesitate."

Daryl tries to keep himself from grinning. "After Dale… me, her, Shane and T-Dog went out around the perimeter, checking the fences. Ran across a group of walkers." He tries, but he can't stop the way the corner of his lips quirk up. "Tough bitch, Andrea. Used a pitchfork to take those sons of bitches out."

Glenn laughs – a real, genuine laugh – and Daryl finds himself chuckling along with him.

"Hey," Glenn says suddenly. "Have you guys ever…"

"What?"

"You know."

Daryl stares at him.

"Hooked up," Glenn whispers, pumping his fist in old-fashioned sort of obscene gesture.

Daryl shifts uncomfortably. "No," he grunts, and concentrates on the blade in his hand. Despite his better judgment, he adds, "Why?"

"It's just… You're a lot alike. I kind of just realized it." Glenn waits a few beats before saying, "You know, if we – when we – find her, you should go for it. You two? You'd make some kickass babies."

Daryl feels his face flush as he glares at him. "The hell is wrong with you, kid?"

Glenn does a palms-up. "I'm just saying."

From somewhere behind them, Maggie stirs awake and calls out. "Glenn?"

He glances back, then rises to his feet. "Gotta go," he says, and puts a hand on Daryl's shoulder. "Thanks for the talk, man."

Daryl nods and looks up at him, watching as he scurries off to Maggie's side. When he's left alone, though, he finds his thoughts stuck on Andrea.

When he'd first met her – uppity, upper crust, smart-mouthed lawyer bitch that she was, or so Merle'd determined her to be – he hadn't liked her. He'd seen her as a stereotype, fueled by his big brother's idiocy, and he knows she'd seen him as one, too – just another dumb, redneck prick.

Somewhere along the way, though, that had changed.

Daryl had grown to like her smart mouth, for one. She'd never tolerated Merle's kissy-faced harassment, once threatening to cut off his junk and feed it to the walkers if he called her "sugar tits" one more time. 

He'd be lying if he said he didn't get a kick out of the way she rolled her eyes at Lori Grimes, too.

He likes that Andrea's got a spark about her. That she isn't passive, isn't dependent on others, like so many women he's known. That she wouldn't ever allow herself to be beaten down, mentally or physically. The fact that she'd come through her post-Amy depressive, suicidal period stronger than ever had proven that to him.

She's attractive, too, in a way he's never really seen before. Sure, she's traditionally pretty – nice face, striking green eyes, long blonde hair, good figure – and he'd noticed that day one. 

Hell, he'd have to be dead to not notice her beauty, no matter how bitchy he might've thought she was. 

It's her other qualities, though – her smart mouth, her spark, her strength – that he really finds attractive, and they're what make her infinitely more interesting to him than any of the pretty young barflies from back home.

His thoughts wander to Glenn's words, and he doesn’t want to let himself think about what kind of kids they'd make. 

It's not like he'd never thought of her that way, watching her from afar or lying alone in his tent at night. He likes to think of her that way; he wants to, even. 

It's beyond his comfort zone, though, and he feels that itchy, anxious feeling start to grab at him whenever he thinks about actually being with somebody, anybody, even her, so he tries his best to push it down to where it won't bother him too much.

On top of everything else, she's a hell of a good fighter, and she's only gotten better. The itchy, anxious feeling starts to come back when he remembers it was Shane who'd taught her, only to be soothed away again when he remembers the other man's fate.

He'd been seriously impressed with the calm, confident way she'd dispatched of walkers with that pitchfork. And though she'd become a better shot after the incident where she'd grazed his head, Daryl knew that she couldn't have gotten that close to him without the kind of skill that comes naturally to a person.

For that reason alone, they shouldn't have left her.

For every other reason, Daryl thinks, he should've gone back for her himself the second they'd reached the highway and discovered she wasn't there.

"Ah, hell," he grumbles.

As quickly as he can, he gathers up his gear, checks his gun for ammo, and drapes his crossbow across his back. As he walks the motorcycle down the road away from their makeshift camp, he spots Rick, perched on top of a wall, acting as sentry. The two men nod, and Daryl jumps on the bike, turning the engine over. 

He's going to go find her.


End file.
